The knowledgeable, opinionated Townspeople of Rock Town Hall have a gift (and sometimes curse) for finding fault with the greatest of the greats in rock ‘n roll. We were the first to cite Keith Richards’ dearth of memorable guitar solos. We were the first to point out that Lennon’s contributions to Rubber Soul dragged the otherwise landmark Beatles’ album down a notch. And who else but Rock Town Hall was going to bring the Charlie Watts hoax to light? OK, you none of you stooped to those depths, but let he who hasn’t picked nits around here at some point feel superior – and perhaps inferior, in our rock-snob eyes.
As a way of confirming that even we can appreciate talent and good taste when it’s there for the taking, let’s conduct a most likely fruitless exercise in nitpicking.
Last night, loaded up on 50 mg of prednisone, I watched a 1972 Roy Orbison concert from Australia. it occurred to me that, beside his genetically compromised Look, there may be very little to find worth criticizing in the man’s work. Orbison’s not among my Top 10 faves or anything, but he had a great voice; sang strong, narrative, dynamic songs; and could rock when he wanted to. Plus he made great use of shades.
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